Dramione one-shots
by Kete.Hlin
Summary: These will be one-shots and small ideas I come up with that either don't evolve into larger stories or are just me practising. -Kete.
1. Bridge Over Troubled Water

"When you're weary, feeling small, when tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all, I'm on your side. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind." -Simon & Garfunkel.

Hermione tugged the sleeve over her thumb and wiped at her nose. Then used the back of her other hand to get the rest. She shuffled her feet closer to the fridge. Empty. She sniffed, closing the door again and shuffling back to the sofa, curling herself up with a blanket. Another tear slid down her puffy cheek and she let out a shaky sigh, holding in a small whine of pain. Her hand curled around the edge of the blanket, squeezing it tight, focusing on the tightness of her muscles and the strain. Pain was the strongest emotion she could come up with to battle the grief, the constant ebbing sadness. Hermione moved the edge of the blanket up to her face, wetting it with the tears that just wouldn't stop forming. She was tired, so very tired. Blinking down on the pools of salt water in her eyes they spilled over and closing them she felt his hand touch her chin to raise her head. She tried to smile but her chin trembled so much she couldn't. Her breath came in quick, short pants. His hands cupped her face, rubbing away her tears, warming her aching heart. Hermione didn't dare open her eyes. Too used to seeing nothing. His forehead touched hers and she cried harder, wanting nothing more than to feel it for real, to feel his nose brushing against hers. The softness of his lips taking hers, claiming what was his, what he had so irrevocably marked and burned onto her skin. Why did you leave? She wanted to scream at him and in another world she could see their roles reversed, she could see him hunched on this same couch, his pale hair clasped tightly in his hand. Could hear him whisper her name like she did his, calling him back to her. _Draco_.

* * *

 **Author's note:** One-shot inspired by first and last line of the song "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon and Garfunkel. The song, it's contents and the characters are not mine I simply toy with them any way I please. Enjoy.


	2. I checked to make sure

Every week I checked to make sure he was still alive. He never saw me. I didn't exactly try to make my presence known either. It was never about me really, but I felt like I owed him something. Unable to repay a debt so huge. So instead I visited St. Mungo's. At first I never ventured further than just outside his door, looking in through the small window and seeing his long frame lying on the bed. As time passed I dared to go in. But only after making sure he was sleeping first, or unconscious. If he was fully awake I never stayed longer than a few minutes outside his door. I never spoke. Words were useless when push came to shove. What could I say anyway? I don't blame you for what your aunt did. Thank you for helping Harry. It all seemed… inconsequential somehow. Meaningless really. I had been visiting him regularly for three months and then he got better. He was awake every time I got to his door, every week. It made me bitter, a sick monster in my stomach yelled and stomped on the ground like a child, screaming: why did you take it away from me? Because if he was awake I couldn't visit him anymore. It was stupid. I knew. But still it had become a routine. It had relaxed me, having somewhere to be every week. I had looked forward to it. It was a reprieve from the funerals. From the quiet dinners at the Burrow where no one dared speak a word because it might remind people of how it used to be. Anything could trigger it. A tiny thought, a small "can you pass the potatoes" could have you remembering something silly Fred would have said. It was a reprieve from the immense guilt every time I held little Teddy. None of this was fair but his little eyes and brightly changing hair-colour haunted me the most. I had decided, one night after not visiting at all for a whole week that I would visit him one more time and then call it quits. This wasn't healthy and I knew that too. I had to stop, it was stalker-ish really. So, I made a plan, a step-by-step guide to my last visiting day.

That morning I got up and dressed in my fancy muggle pantsuit, it made me feel more on top of things, like I had control over something. It gave me the courage I'd been lacking for a long time. My heels clicked on the street as I jogged over to the coffee cart and got myself a latte, double this time around. On the way, I bought a single pink rose, it smelled comforting. Determined I walked down the hall toward his room and was thankful when peering in that it was empty. I opened the door, cautious that he might still be inside but out of my line of sight. Nothing. Going up to his bed I pulled up the chart and read what the doctors and nurses had scribbled most recently. He would be discharged soon. It was a good thing I decided to stop this, it would have driven me mad coming here every week and then one moment he wouldn't be here anymore. This was good, getting closure. I conjured a thin, long vase on the food-tray beside his bed and placed the pink rose there. It looked nice. I lightly touched the tousled bedding before turning to leave.

"Granger."

His voice was light, breathier than anything I had ever heard from him before. But I hadn't really seen him, not really been anywhere near him for so long. I couldn't get myself to look up into his face. The man I had an image of lying in the bed behind me was frail, weak and ill. It was not the boy who had taunted me in school. Yes, I knew how that sounded. I had made quite a good delusion of him in my mind. I knew that the real thing could never be what I had glorified him to be. People don't change like that.

"That for me?"

I could hear the smirk in his voice. Amazing how things didn't change. I should have known better. It was stupid of me to come here. Pushing my feet forward I headed to the door, promising myself to let the tears fall when I was outside. His arm grabbed mine, surprisingly strong for someone that had been bed-ridden for months.

"Granger?"

Gods his voice was soft. This couldn't really be him, could it? Had he ever spoken to me directly before, ever? I couldn't recall a time except to insult me. I wanted to steel my expression, make it the cool mask he could but I had always worn my heart on my sleeve. That hadn't changed. So instead, I simply prepared for the sneer on his face and willed away my tears. He didn't really deserve them, did he? Looking up I saw that I had been wrong. The sneer wasn't there. Not even a smirk. Just a curious, uncertain look. His hold on me slackened. I didn't trust my voice. Who was he? The man I had come to visit and made up into something fantastical, or the boy who had taunted me for years? Or maybe someone completely different.

"Thank you," he said.

What did he have to thank me for? What had I ever done for him? Loathed him for his hatred, for his prejudice. Judged him as he had judged me. Physically hurt him one year. Discredited him and blamed him for all the wrongs in my life at one point. He had never deserved that of course, but an angry, grieving teenager did whatever emotion drove her to.

"D'you want to get a drink? Talk for a bit." He gestured to the crutch in his hand, something I hadn't noticed till now. "Cafeteria drinks aren't ideal but with this I can't go much further anyway." I simply stared, it was like my voice grew wings and decided to fly far far away. "Please?" He finished and I numbly nodded my head. His arm linked with mine and he walked me to the cafeteria, half in a daze.

Orange juice in hand we sat opposite each other on uncomfortable hospital benches. I took small sips here and there, the tang settling on my tongue but not bringing it to life.

"Why are you here Granger?"

I shook my head. I didn't have an answer any more than he did. I had never really known why, it was just something I did. Brought me some kind of comfort, I guess. Stableness in a crumbling world. His hand reached over and a finger grazed the back of my hand and I dared to look him in the eye. His touch scarred my skin, making an invisible mark only I could feel and it rest there and spread because his hand stayed on mine.

"Why are you the only one that visits me? After everything…" He shook his head, blonde locks falling almost to his eyes and I wanted to push it back. A stupid thought. "I don't deserve it, Granger. I would have thought you and Potter and Weasley meet up and laugh about the justice of me being left alone in this world. Getting what I deserved for my wrongdoings." Here he took a breath, shoving his hair back only tangling it more. "So, why? The nurses say you're here almost every week. I know it's you too," he said with a smile. "Your hair is unmistakable, even when described. Maybe I'm delusional and you're visiting someone else this entire time and I'm probably making more out of this than it is. Being cooped up in here is doing wonders for my psyche," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Please just tell me, put me out of my misery and remind me of my place." He looked into my eyes, and his hand squeezed mine. "Being crushed under your shoe as the filth I am."

My tongue loosened from the roof of my mouth and I shook my head. How could he think so low of himself? After all those years of being kind of the world he had finally been knocked down, not only a peg but lower than the ground. He saw himself as filth. He saw himself the way he had demeaned me to be; made for the mud. But that wasn't what he was. Wasn't where he belonged. The fact that he thought that showed he had changed. Right? God, could I even depend on my own thoughts anymore? Maybe I had gone completely crazy after everything. I wanted to convince myself that he wasn't real, but the grip on my hand, the warmth of his touch was all too real.

"I know you don't want to be here," he said after a silence that stretched too long for his bravery to hold on. His hand retreating back to his empty juice glass. "I forced you to sit with me, I'm sorry. I don't deserve an explanation, I know."

My hand reached over and took his again, greedily seeking his warmth. My hands had been empty and cold for too long. It felt right to hold something so warm, so real.

"No," I said, finally, as my voice returned. Wanting to convey my feelings, the strange urge to tell him everything without really saying a word. To tell him in short terms that I now saw him, maybe not for what he was, but for what he could be. For what we could be. "You deserve so much more."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Writing prompt from a random sentence generator: "I checked to make sure he was still alive." The characters are not mine, I simply write about what could have been, all rights go to J.K. Rowling. Enjoy.


	3. It was getting dark

It was getting dark and we weren't there yet. Shit. She was going to kill me. Being late to dinner any other night, sure, she was understanding most of the time. But three nights in a row? Granger would have my head. Just like the last two nights and I had promised. I should have known better than to promise. Fuck.

"Can we hurry this up?"

"Relax Malfoy," Tim said, to my annoyance. "You're acting like it's your first night out you're so jittery. Nothing's going to happen."

"Will you stop jinxing every single mission we have? Salazar, Tim, you're just being reckless."

"Reckless is my middle name," he said with a smirk my way.

I wanted to hex the arrogant gits balls off for his cheek. This was serious. Not to mention dangerous. If I wasn't afraid of Granger killing me when I got home, if something happened it would be nothing compared to her reaction to it. She had become… volatile after the last… incident. It wasn't really my fault, not really. So, what? I told a joke at a very inopportune moment? How did that make me responsible for three people at St. Mungo's? We caught the guy in the end. Okay, maybe it was my fault. The whole "constant vigilance" bit got away from me for a bit. Guess that's the point of it, ironic, right?

Rounding another corner the houses here seemed just as drab and run-down as all the others. "We're lost," I said dejected.

"No, we're not."

"Fuck you, we're lost just admit it. I need to get home." Reaching into my pocket I looked at the silver pocket-watch Granger had gotten me last Christmas. Two hours late. The evening could still be salvaged.

"If you weren't so whipped Malfoy and tried to focus for once, you'd see— "

"Whipped?" I asked, "Please, just because I'm man enough to admit that we're lost— "

"Man enough to admit?" Tim made an exaggerated hurt face. "Why I am insulted."

"Please don't start this again."

"You have hurt my honour!" His hand flung to his forehead. "I feel faint."

"This is ridiculous."

"Catch me!" Tim comically swayed on his feet toward me.

"Fuck off." I shoved him away and he chuckled.

A white light whipped past me and hit Tim, he stiffened and fell to the ground. I swung around with my wand up a shield charm on my tongue as I stared into the darkness. There was no way I would make dinner tonight. Hermione was definitely going to kill me.

I closed the door quietly and took a moment to rest my head against it. Being outnumbered fucking sucked. The mission had been a complete bust since Tim had been incapacitated throughout the whole thing. Thankfully I'm a skilled duellist and managed, somehow, after too long and too many draining spells, hexes and shield charms to apparate the two of us out of there.

I unclasped my cloak and hung it on the hook. It was dark, but there was still light in the kitchen. Fuck. I tiptoed closer to the light, hoping that by some miracle she had just forgotten to turn off the light. Something she never did. No such luck. Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table. It was still set for him, the food in the middle and an empty plate by his usual seat. Her hands were clasped in front of her on the table and she didn't even look at him when he stepped into the light. He was sure he didn't look great, evidence of the rough night evident on his face and he wanted her to see that. See the proof of why he was so unforgivingly late. Hesitantly he made himself a glass of water and chugged it down before filling it again and slid into the chair. Her stare was so vacant, did she even know he was there? His stomach plummeted. Oh no, that couldn't be anything good. But this couldn't possibly be that serious, could it? He had just missed dinner a few times. Nothing to break up over, at least he didn't think so. Fuck, he couldn't lose her.

"Hermione?" He said gently, putting his hand over both of hers on the table. She still didn't look up, so he cupped her cheek and moved her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I know I promised but something came up and Tim was stunned and then I had to duel three guys at once and it was all so fucked up, you know?" Still silence. "I… I tried to tell him that we were lost, it was stupid really. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you alone again. I'll make it up to you I promise."

More silence. Fuck. I hadn't rambled like this for a while. What was going on?

"Are you alright? Did something happen?"

No reaction.

"Come on Hermione, look at me!"

Her head snapped to me and her eyes focused. I prepared for the worst, for the words I had always expected to hear, whenever she was upset, whenever something came up, however small. Those three damning words: I'm leaving you. Or the four that were worse: I don't love you. Add the worst word of all and it would completely crush my world: anymore.

She took a breath and her hand cupped mine by her cheek.

"Please Hermione, talk to me. What's going on?"

She smiled, it was small, tentative and unsure.

"I'm pregnant."


	4. I hear Nancy is very pretty

**Author's Note:** "I hear that Nancy is very pretty" Random sentence prompt.

"I hear that Nancy is very pretty."

The words flow out of my mouth before I can stop them. He stills. His mouth stopping at the base of my neck. His hand clenches into a fist in my hair, forcing my head up a little further at the sting.

"Don't do that," he said.

"Do what?"

"You know what," he says angry, letting go of me and stepping away. "You know what we agreed. We both agreed."

"I know."

"So don't do this."

"What am I supposed to do then?" I'm staring at his rigid back and I see my hands running over it but this time I refrain. It's not the same anymore, it can't be. "Tolerate it?"

"We agreed."

"I don't care anymore what we agreed," I spit at him. "Listen to what I'm saying now."

"What are you saying now?" He turns to me and his face is unforgiving, as usual. Not leaning. Not bending. Unfeeling. "It's a bit late to get into the romantic aspects of our relationship don't you think?"

"You know that's not—"

"But still you want me to leave her, isn't that what this is about?"

"Well…" I tug my sweater back over my exposed chest, leaning into the wall behind me.

"We've had this conversation before."

"Well you weren't getting married then!" I say defensively.

He shakes his head. "You didn't seem very banged up about it then, or when your boyfriend proposed."

I shift on my feet, the cold sting of my hardwood floors seeping in through the soles of my thin white socks. "That was different."

"How?"

"I wasn't the one to propose, for one." He looks away from me, coward. "And for another I didn't say yes."

"And we both know it wasn't because of me."

"Draco please—"

"No, Hermione, this is bullshit. It always has been but we're both too fucked up to stop or to see reason."

"Maybe we could give it a try, I mean it's been what, almost fifteen years?"

Again he shakes his head, accompanied by a mirthless chuckle. Not sparing my feelings. Never sparing them.

"Yeah, it's been fifteen years since the battle but nothing has changed since then. No matter what you have done, no matter what laws they passed I'm still who I am and you are still who you are. In their eyes and everyone else's. We both know the repercussions of this, both if we decide to pursue it or if anyone finds out."

"It doesn't have to be an affair!" I practically yell at him, so tired of this dance.

"But it can't be anything else, Hermione!" He slices his arm through the air, as if this ends the conversation. "You know why, I know why, and everyone else does too. Why are you trying to delude yourself? It won't happen."

"Because you don't want it to?"

"Unbelievable," he says under his breath. "You are so stubborn. Brightest witch my arse."

"Stop it."

"It's not about what I want, or what you want. It's the fact that being with me will drag you through the mud. Your reputation and all your relationships would be ruined. Your job would be questioned. Do you want me to continue? Not to mention how dear old Weasley and Potter will react to the oh-so-great news that you've been shagging the Death Eater since before you got with Weasley in the first place."

"I said stop it!" I yell and accidental magic hurls him back into my sofa. "Why do you always…" Annoyed I wipe away my tears. "You don't have to be such a dick, Malfoy." Vindictive and bitter is the taste of his last name on my tongue. Something foreign that shouldn't be there.

"We both knew this would end someday," he continues, getting up this time and righting his jacket. Unfeeling, uncaring. "It couldn't go on forever."

I want to say the words: why not? But I know he'll tear me to pieces like he always does. Except it's lost its grandeur now, the excitement gone, the thrill of the forbidden. All lost with time, with bitterness growing inside us both. Resentment. The thoughts and hopes of what could be. Or now, what could have been.

"We were never meant-to-be," he says, twisting the knife with one last parting word and nod of his head. "Granger."

The familiar pop and he's gone.

It is hell. It is torture. Sweet sweet torture, except not the usual kind. The malicious destroyer of hearts that always leaves that devastating light of hope in the darkest recesses of lover's hearts. But the candle has been snuffed, the light has gone out and the love long gone. It doesn't stop the hurt, the tears, the ache and longing. A constant jab in the stomach. The hard scrape of the unforgiving floor when I fall. The emptiness that tries to swallow me whole and I am still falling. I can't see, can't open my eyes but I can smell metal and taste iron but I don't care. There's nothing to care about as everything fades, feeling, warmth and thought. Nothing is left once I have left.

Gone… gone… gone…gone…. Goodb—


	5. Drabble Angst Challenge - Routine

**Author's note:** This idea was originally going to be for an Angst Drabble challenge, but I exceeded the word limit by quite a bit (the limit was 1.000 words... this is 2.479, oops). But in any case, I wrote it and I hope you like it. The prompts are from the lovely people at the Dramione Fanfiction Forum (18+ only) on facebook. The prompt was this: Howling wind - ticking clock - "Don't ask me to give this up". I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it.

Ps. as the prompt suggests this is angsty, beware! (and enjoy)

* * *

Routine

 **-Doubt-**

Hermione trailed her finger over the contours of his chest, moving in languid circles, watching his steady breaths in time with the ticking clock on the nightstand.

"Something wrong?" Draco asked. "I can feel the cogs turning."

She took a second to gather her thoughts, before asking: "Are you happy?"

He opened his eyes to look at her. "Yeah, I'm happy. Aren't you?"

"I… I think I am. I'm just scared that you might get bored of being with me. Because," she hurried to say. "We've gotten into this routine. And though I like living with you… I don't want you to lose interest if things get boring."

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. "I'm content, not bored." His smile was genuine. "But if you feel like it's getting boring, let me know and we'll spice things up." He grinned.

She let out a soft laugh, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Alright."

 **-Again-**

"Take out?" He asked, leaning against the door frame to her study.

"Sure," she replied, her nose deep in a file as her pen flew across the page.

"You know you'll have to come out of those reports to eat."

"I know. But I think I'll eat in here. I really need to finish this."

"Alright," he said and ordered the take out. Once it arrived he brought hers to her study, kissing her cheek. She thanked him with a 'love you'. Then Draco ate his dinner in front of her muggle television alone. Again.

 **-Expectation-**

Hermione grabbed the empty bottles of beer and fire whiskey off the sticky coffee table. She made her way down the hall, meeting Draco on her way, still in his boxers.

"You know," she said. "There's this thing called a trash." She raised the bottles for him to see.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his red eyes. "We were just having fun, I forgot. Would have taken care of it later."

"Right, like you were going to last time?"

There was a loud blonk as the bottles clanged together in the recycling bin.

He sighed. "Is this a problem?"

"No, no problem," she said and walked away, dropping it.

 **-Angry-**

Hermione could finally relax on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate, the first night in too long. The front door slammed, catching her off guard and she sloshed her drink, splashing drops on the carpet and blanket. Draco stormed into the room, throwing his cloak with distaste on the floor. She waited for him to speak, watching him pace as the wind howled outside. Finally, he saw in the armchair, pulling at his dirtied hair. She set her cup down gently on the coffee table between them.

"Fucking pricks all of them."

"What happened?"

"They're kicking me out of the Auror program."

"They can't do that."

"Actually, they fucking can. See, they don't want "a rat in their midst," so I can just take my fancy hair and fortune and shove it up my ass on my way out."

"Draco… that's terrible," she said.

He sneered. "Yeah, you're probably really banged up about it."

She sighed. "What does that mean?"

"You didn't want me to apply in the first place, you're getting your way – like always."

"This wasn't my doing."

"Might as well have been."

"Hey! I've been nothing but supportive since you started training."

"Yeah, really fucking supportive."

"I told you why I didn't want you to. It's dangerous and you could die in the field."

"So could Potter and Weasley."

"And I'm just as worried about them. But they have their own lives outside of mine but ours are twined."

"Hardly."

Hermione looked at him like he just slapped her in the face. "You're upset," she said after a levelling breath. "I get it."

"No you don't fucking get it. You can't. Because you're doing what you like, you're spending all your fucking time at work with one case after another and what am I doing?" His face seemed dull, almost sallow as he talked. "Sitting at home trying to figure out what to do with myself. No one out there wants me. They decline before I even apply. I'm like the fucking plague."

"It's not that bad, you're upset right now, but it's going to-"

"If you say: "get better" I will scream. You don't know how it's been because you're never around anymore."

"Well what do you want me to do? Quit my job?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't ask you to do that. But maybe let this big case take the backseat for a while. I miss you. Even if you don't miss me."

"What?"

"I know you don't. You're too busy to miss me. But I have all day, whole weeks of being alone and wonder who my girlfriend is saving or spending her time with now. For once, I just wanted to try something and they just…"

"I could try coming home earlier…" she said.

"That's not enough."

"Don't ask me to give this up Draco. Please, this is the biggest case of my career. Once that's finished we can-"

"When that's finished another will take its place. You know that it won't ever stop Hermione, because that's what your job is. A fucking climb, a ladder to a top notch that you are going to accomplice because you are great at what you do. And I want you to get there. But just… don't sacrifice us on the way there, please. Don't ask me to give us up."

Hermione stood and sat down in his lap, leaning into him. "I won't. I promise, I won't."

"Thank you," he said, wrapping his arms around her, clinging to the warmth of her, the steady beating of her heart while a storm raged outside.

 **-Imagine-**

Hermione let her mind drift to the day she had imagined so many times before, but no longer expected or ached for. After the war, she didn't want to get married in white. It didn't feel right anymore because her soul was forever tainted. But red, purple, or blue were most prominent in her daydreams. In her mind, she stood before the closed double doors of her old hometowns' church, holding a bouquet of forget-me-not's, because they were small and quaint, like her. She waited for the sound of the wedding march on the other side. But once it started she would be flooded with dread. Because when the doors would open, and Hermione – in dreams and imagination – just couldn't be certain the groom would be standing on the other side. And she would be left deserted, abandoned.

Draco Malfoy had often mentioned he didn't want marriage, and Hermione could respect that. But now, she could no longer delude herself that he would do it if she asked.

His gaze was vacant as he ate. He got letters daily, by post not owl.

 **-Worry-**

Throughout their relationship, Draco often imagined proposing to Hermione. But the thought of marriage seemed too wrong to him to follow through with it. So, his mother's ring gathered dust in a shoebox at the bottom of his wardrobe. The years passed and he didn't feel the need to propose anymore because they were so close already, why would they need to hold a party to celebrate? He loved her, it wasn't any more complicated than that. The years took their toll. Before, Draco didn't believe the spark would die down. By the time he found a career he realised they no longer spent their days together the same way they used to. Everything seemed automatic. Then she got a big case after big case, working more and longer hours. She had a co-worked… Draco didn't trust that guy. He was handsome, he was a workaholic. They had a lot in common and Draco was afraid. Could he imagine existence without Hermione? But then… how long had it been since she looked at him with that spark in her eye? How long ago was it she promised him to not let her job overtake their relationship?

Fuck, what he wouldn't give for that spark back, to just feel it again.

 **-Temptation-**

Hermione missed the thrill. The excitement of touch, the anticipation that there might be more to explore, more to find. She and Draco still touched and kissed, of course. But it no longer had the _feeling_. It was going through the motions – the routine. She missed the heat- the fire of a newly bursting flame.

In her fantasies, she had that. But Draco was not a part of those. Sometimes it was no one in particular. Other times it was her co-worker. He had a shirt that clung to him, with a few buttons undone after long work hours. The days he wore tight jeans were difficult days for Hermione, she had to try not to stare. They were colleagues, friends by now, their easy conversations were sometimes laced with light flirtations. Hardly anything – nothing of note. But there was that undertone of possibility. Which Hermione didn't want to acknowledge.

She was sitting at her desk in her office. It was late. He had left. But she let herself imagine that he would come back and kiss her. Sit her on the desk and touch her because he just had to. Her hand slid down her hip like he would do.

"Hermione?"

Her co-worker opened the door to her office, startling her. She blushed.

"Sorry," he said. "Am I interrupting something?" God there was that cocky grin, as if he knew all too well what she was thinking.

"No, no, not at all. What is it?" Hermione said in haste.

"I forgot to get your signature on the contract." He walked over to her side of the desk, putting the papers in front of her. But Hermione, quickly stood. However, not in complete control of her faculties timed it wrong and they bumped into each other. He laughed, steadying her. Hermione felt uneasy.

"Are you alright? Feeling a bit hot under the collar?" he chuckled.

"What?" she blushed. "I just… it's been a long day, I should head home."

"Right," he said, and gestured for her to sign the contract. She scribbled her name worse than she ever had before. Their hands brushed and she tried her best not to look at him. There was a thick tension in the air and she had to ignore the feeling – anticipation.

"Hermione," he said, his voice low, an invitation.

 **-Broken-**

Hermione stumbled through their doorway in a hurry, needing to find him. Her lips still tingled after tasting betrayal. She wanted to wash it off, throw it all away because she had realised how stupid she had been. That wanting something else wasn't the same as needing. Because she realized that she needed Draco Malfoy in her life, to breathe, to live. She needed, _needed_ , to fix their routine. She found him in their bedroom, sitting on the bed with his head bent. The relief was almost instantaneous. Hurriedly she kicked off her shoes and knelt in front of him.

"Draco?" She touched his knee, needing the contact. "I just… I have to tell you, and I'm way too late I know. But I've been unhappy, for a while and I… I kissed someone tonight and, and I regret it, I'm sorry I did that. But I… it helped me realise how much I love you and how much I don't want to let you go. I don't want anyone else but you, ever. I want to make an effort, a real effort to fix us." She wiped at her eyes, she didn't want to be saying this while tearing up but she couldn't help it. Why wasn't he saying anything? "I… I know it's hard to hear but it was barely a kiss…"

He shook his head, and Hermione wondered if there was something more serious going on. Had he gotten some bad news that he didn't want to tell her?

"Draco?"

He looked up, locking eyes with her and immediately there was a darkness there she hadn't seen for years and years. She backed away from him, giving him space that he might need.

"I've been unhappy too," he said, his voice low and sad. As if his whole being had been turned into nothing. He swallowed, and it made stones settle in her stomach. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, could never… never ask for it. Fuck." He stood up abruptly and Hermione flinched.

"Wh-what do you mean? Forgive you for what?"

"I'm leaving."

"What? Draco-" she stood to grab his arm. "No, don't. I told you I'm sorry and I… I don't want this to end. Remember? Remember my promise, I still want to keep it. Please, don't… don't ask me to give us up."

"It's not giving us up, Hermione…." He closed his eyes and turned his head down to the floor. "I slept with someone."

The shock of it jolted her arm off him, snapping her legs into action, moving back. Because this couldn't be real. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." He grabbed a bag from the closet and started piling clothes into it.

"No…" Hermione couldn't process what was going on. She just lost faith in the person she loved most… and at the same time he was leaving… leaving her alone. No, no no no. She grabbed his arm to stop him from putting more clothes into the bag. "Please."

"I have to leave."

"Please don't leave me, I can…" she swallowed the word forgive because she honestly wasn't sure if she could but she couldn't live- couldn't breathe without him. But could she continue living with him after this?

"Hermione please." His voice was pained. "You deserve better than the fucked up shit I did. You… you even… fuck." He rubbed over his face repeatedly. "You could stop after a kiss and I didn't."

"Don't say that. I can't… I can't survive without you Draco, don't leave." She held on tighter. "We can work through this."

"I don't think we can."

She let out a wail as the truth of everything set in her bones. It was crushing her. "How could you?" she practically whined through her tears.

"I don't know…" was his miserable answer. His unworthy answer.

He pulled away from her grasp and she slid to the floor, unable to find any strength left in her body without his trust. He filled his bag with clothes, then hesitated as he picked up an old shoe-box. Hermione heard him choke on a gasp-like sob and saw through blurry eyes that he sank to the floor opposite her, back to the wardrobe. Their eyes locked and they cried together. They reached their hands out and touched. She felt it more prominently than she had in years and it broke her. It broke them.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I cried writing this, guess it just hit close to home. Not sure how it would affect others. Let me know in your reviews :) Thank you for reading


	6. Smile

**Smile**

 _Smile though your heart is aching_

Hermione stood tall, as she watched the dark brown wooden casket lowered to the ground. The gravestone glinted in the late afternoon sun: _Beloved brother, friend, son and prankster. May your laughter live forever._

 _Smile even though it's breaking_

Hermione held tight to her handkerchief, crumpling it in her fist as two caskets sunk to the ground side by side: _In loving memory, their hearts as one, in life and death united._

 _When there are clouds in the sky you'll get by_

Hermione sat upright in her bed, clutching the covers to her stomach. She stared into space until the sting forced her eyes shut trying to get the tiniest bit of relief. There was no blankness that greeted her, but rather fleeting memories of dangers that hadn't yet shifted into adventures. Death, torture, and pain flowed through her body to her fingertips and toes, squeezing her stomach and wrenching at her heart. She opened her eyes again for a different kind of relief. But the steady truth was there was no sleep to be found tonight. Only feelings and troublesome thoughts consumed by loneliness, grief, and sorrow.

Who was this woman? Hermione stood on her cool bathroom floor and couldn't recognise her own reflection. This woman was weak, physically deteriorating along with her mind. She hated her. Despised her. Hermione yelled and screamed her rage at this woman. Who did she think she was? How dare she be this weak? How could she stand there and continue to exist when so many others weren't given the chance to? She didn't deserve it. She left the broken pieces of glass on the floor to bleed alone.

 _If you smile through your fear and sorrow_

Someone had come to her at last. But she was alone, alone. There was nothing else. No one else. She wasn't worth the hassle. Care for others, those that matter more. Save them not her. Finally her door was blasted open. How pathetic of her to not even try to reach for her wand. Not caring if she could be in danger. But then a boys' face, a young eleven year old with broken glasses and a too big shirt sitting on a train, appeared in front of her. With those welcoming green eyes. But they weren't on their way to Hogwarts and the boy, wracked by pain and time was no longer young and innocent. Creasing lines of worry crept around the sallow skin under his eyes as he pulled Hermione into his arms.

 _Smile and maybe tomorrow_

Having to admit fault had never been her strong suit. But she needed help. Hermione was sick and needed help… Wasn't that a difficult thing to say? So hard to admit. Pragmatically, she knew that was because of her pride. Emotionally, she was ashamed at her weakness.

The room she was assigned at the facility was alright. The best thing about it was that it was all new. There were no memories here, nothing familiar at all. For the first time Hermione could sleep. Not much, not fully, but here she could close her eyes and feel no ghosts around her.

 _You'll see the sun come shining through for you_

Her healer… therapist… said she was ready for group sessions. Hermione didn't feel ready. She didn't want others to know about her weakness. She didn't want to destroy the image, the reputation she had, as the level-headed part of a powerful trio.

Some things should never crumble.

She managed the first steps on her own, escorted by a healer into the open room. Her spot of bravery quickly faded as she looked at the group gathered in a circle and locked eyes with a boy whose sneer she knew too well. Her blood boiled and Hermione was carried away by three healers, leaving upturned chairs and chaos. She felt it was a triumph to see Malfoy cowering on the floor as she was carried away.

 _Light up your face with gladness_

"No."

"Don't you think you need to face your fears and that maybe he is a part of that?"

"I do not fear Malfoy."

"Perhaps not," healer Vult said. "But you harbour very strong feelings. So strong you tried to attack him. Does that seem like regular behaviour to you?"

Hermione looked down at her hands. Her nails had been victims to her gnawing teeth. The skin at the tips flaky and coarse due to her constant need to move or pick at them, to feel something.

"No," she whispered. Because she was no longer the Hermione who acted normally. She no longer knew who she was. Hermione had long since abandoned herself when she cracked her bathroom mirror and left her reflection behind to rot in the rubble.

"Go to the next group session. You don't need to speak, or participate. Just try to find your place inside the space. Find a way to be comfortable in your own skin around others."

 _Hide every trace of sadness_

The sun streamed in through the window, hitting her thigh and arm, which was wrapped tightly around her stomach. Everything shone bright white in the sunlight and it warmed her. Hermione liked that they all wore white, it was simplistic and comforting.

"And how do you feel about that?" The healer, a mr Coombs, asked Padma Patil who sat next to Hermione.

"I don't know," Padma answered. "Hollow."

Hermione looked over to Padma, a girl she had never really come to know. It got her wondering how her life might have been different if she were sorted into Ravenclaw. Would the two of them have been friends?

"Miss Granger? Would you like to share today?"

Hermione shook her head and went back to starting at her hands. The sun calmed her but she couldn't find her place there as her therapist had asked.

 _Although a tear may be ever so near_

"We will have no attacks here, ms Granger," Healer Coombs warned.

"I'm not attacking him!" Hermione huffed.

"You are with your words."

Hermione shut her mouth. Shame cooled down her anger.

"This is a safe space for everyone," Coombs continued. "We must respect each other for we are all people who have come here with struggles. No matter our past we have come here to heal and be accepted."

"Sorry."

"It is not me you should apologise to."

Hermione's gaze followed where the healer gestured to, reluctantly meeting Malfoy's grey eyes. How could she possibly apologise to him? How could she open her mouth and utter those words to a man she so despised? But before she could, he did. Something she hadn't witnessed in any of these sessions.

"I am truly and deeply sorry," Malfoy said. "About all the messed up things I've said and done in the past. I don't expect you to show me respect. I can't expect you to apologise when I am the one that needs to. I am so sorry."

He then stood and left Hermione rooted in her chair. The group session continued on but Hermione kept her eyes on the vacant chair on the opposite side of the ring. He had apologised. She didn't think she had ever heard Malfoy apologise except maybe to professors at Hogwarts. But those were pseudo-apologies, to get on their good graces. She couldn't see any way that apology could have benefitted Malfoy in any way, except for some sort of personal growth. Hermione was ashamed to admit that she hadn't thought him capable.

 _That's the time you must keep on trying_

"I wouldn't change any of my actions," Malfoy said in a group class two months after his apology.

"What?" Hermione said, indignant. "How could you say that after everything?"

Healer Coombs cut her off by raising his hand. Hermione pursed her lips together. It wasn't her time to speak and she was disrespecting the rules.

"Because," Malfoy continued. "Those choices and events have shaped me into the person I am today. I might not be happy about what I've done or who I am, but I need to accept all of that and take responsibility to move on and to hopefully become a person I want to be."

"Very good mr Malfoy," Coombs said. "Thank you for sharing."

Hermione tentatively opened her mouth to speak, conscious of keeping a calm and respectful tone. "You wouldn't change anything, even if it meant saving someone that's gone?"

Malfoy took a moment to think about his answer and then firmly locked his gaze on hers.

"No one can be saved. The ones that are gone are gone, no matter how many ifs you think of. I don't want to be stuck in the past unable to move on. Do you?"

 _Smile, what's the use of crying?_

She stood on the terrace, looking at the flowers that dared to bloom so beautifully. Their bravery might have given her hope, she realised, if he heart were open to such naive nonsense.

"May I join you?"

She turned and looked at Malfoy standing in the doorway. It was still strange to see him wearing white. He looked almost angelic. The irony wasn't lost on Hermione. She waved her arm in a nonchalant way and he walked up to stand next to her. Together they watched in silence as the flowers dance in the summer breeze.

"Breathtaking aren't they?" He said. "Funny how nature can stay so untouched by devastation."

"Why are you here?" Hermione asked.

"I wanted fresh air."

"You have a window in your room."

"Ah," he said with a sigh. "Then perhaps it was your company I sought out."

Hermione scoffed. "Is that an assignment from your therapist?"

"No," he said and let it linger in the air before he turned and left.

 _You'll find that life is still worthwhile_

Art therapy was Hermiones' least favourite way to pass the time. She didn't like feeling inadequate, and when she tried to draw or paint that feeling settled in her stomach like a boulder. She hated not knowing how to do something. So instead she was allowed to write. Hermione didn't write fiction, she wrote legislation. She wrote to do lists, problems she thought needed to be addressed and how she would accomplish them. It was pragmatic, practical and even enjoyable. It made her feel like she actually had something worthwhile to do. One evening she returend to the art room, having forgotten notes about werewolf equality legislations. On her way out a painting caught her eye. It depicted the night sky. It wasn't finished, but the outlines were drawn on the edges like leaves and twigs. It was as if you were lying on the ground, peeking between the leaves of a tree at the stars. She could see different constellations clearly. Hermione lost hereself in the painting. It made her feel peaceful. It was like she was there, and she wished she was.

A week later she snuck back in, looking for a painting that might stir something inside her. This time the painter was most of the way finished and Hermione wondered if they had come back after the class to try and finish it. The painting was an assortment of colours all mixed in swipes and turns, of fluid motions of the brush meticulously made in a way that made sense. In one corner black faded masterfully into purples and blues with yellows and whites. All of which swirled to the middle where oranges, reds and greens popped and sparkled. Hermione stood on tremblings legs for a quarter of an hour, tearing up and holding a hand over her mouth to contain her sobs. It surprised her that a painting consisting only of colours could affect her so. In the colours she could so strongly sense her fallen friends, all represented in their own way.

In the purples and whites she saw Tonks that fluidly shifted to Lupin, enveloped in a warm green and grey. Further up she could sense Fred in the bright spark of orange and red sparkle. But most of all she could see herself in the whole of it, her own emotions and her own journey somehow splattered on a canvas.

When she finally left the art room she felt as though a small part of her had been healed.

 _If you just smile_

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked, standing in the doorway to his room. He was packing up, getting ready to leave. She could see drawings still hanging on his walls and in some of the open had never sought him out before or gone near his room, but it didn't surprise her.

"I'm sorry," she said when he turned to her. "I didn't treat you fairly when I first came here. I was prejudiced and I want to own up to that." She stood there for a few breaths, shifting her weight on her feet. Malfoy's face was calm but he didn't say anything. So, she left, hoping she got her message through clearly enough.

That evening, after dinner, she returned to her room and found Malfoy standing by her door, dressed in a dark navy suit and holding what looked like a canvas covered in a sheet. Without a word Hermione opened the door to her room, letting him enter first. She then gestured to a chair by her desk which he sat down in. For a short moment he observed the lists and documents on her desk.

"Should have known this is what you would do in your spare time."

Hermione simply shrugged, relieved that she was at least behaving similarly to how she did before, taking it as a sign of growth and healing.

"I came to say goodbye," Malfoy said. Hermione nodded, feeling like he had more he wished to say.

"You've surprised me," he continued. "And I wish you the best of luck here."

He then handed her the frame covered in the sheet. Hermione hesitated and then took it. "Why?" She asked.

"Because it might mean more to you to have it."

Hermione uncovered the sheet and stared at the painting. It was the one she had cried over in the art room. She stared at it, taking it in all over again and felt her eyes well up with tears.

"I don't know what you see when you look at it," Malfoy said. "But I see peace and chaos coexisting. I see laughter and life."

Hermione swallowed around the lump in her throat and looked up at her old school rival.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, blinked back her tears, reached out for his hand and

smiled.

The end

 **Authors' note: Maybe this was corny, maybe not. I really wanted to do a tiny bit of writing prompted by the song "Smile" by Charlie Chaplin. I absolutely adore this song and I had it stuck on my brain for two days and just had to write down this idea. Hopefully whoever reads it likes it. I enjoyed writing it. Hopefully this will help me get back into the writing gear I've been missing for so long. -Kete**


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